


Familial Tethers

by Cirilla Godefroy (Cumbersnatched)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batcave, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-11 10:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumbersnatched/pseuds/Cirilla%20Godefroy
Summary: Geralt built a nest for Regis, and it was good. So good it had him dreaming of his old nest and home as a child, on the run from The Unseen Elder.





	1. Nesting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrueTattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueTattoo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Baptism in Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200242) by [TrueTattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueTattoo/pseuds/TrueTattoo). 

> This multi chapter mini fic is inspired by TrueTattoo's 'Baptism in Blood'. I really suggest you read it!!
> 
> I haven't written in over ten years and don't have a Beta :(
> 
> I did my best to match it to TrueTattoo's head canon but did take a little liberty with the backstory.
> 
> I don't know anything about the witcher other than what I've gleaned from wiki, witcher 3 and insight from fics.
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoy!!

Regis was wrapped in darkness once again, though instead of consuming him, filling him with cold dread, it enveloped him in warmth, welcoming him back like an old friend. The darkness felt heavy and familiar. Safe. However a fleeting thought shifted through the peaceful blank slate of his mind. The thought stirred in him a momentary unease like he should know something about the darkness; that they had joined before under much different circumstances. Though before he could grasp the thread of thought, a soft trill followed by a low rumble began to stir him awake.

He shifted his body, curling tighter into the skins and furs that surrounded him, enjoying the warmth and comfort the nest provided him. It was too soon. He didn’t want to wake. He felt as if he’d just fallen asleep. The dreams hadn’t even come yet…

Another more insistent rumble. Something whined off to his side. Regis felt the nest vibrate and the furs around him began to shift as something warm nuzzled against his face. He clenched his eyes tighter, claws gripping the skins as he buried his face in their warmth.

“Nnnnn,” he keened, warm and content in the soft furs. The musky scent of earth, sweet spices and _home_ overwhelmed him as the nuzzling became more persistent. A solid weight shifted and lay upon him then. _Safe. Love._ Soft trills edged him further awake, along with a vibrating rumble that he now felt throughout his body along with warm puffs of air that ruffled his own fur and tickled his ears. _Love_ he sent back through their familial bond.

Regis slowly opened his eyes, thin lips pulling back in what might be considered a toothy smile as he blinked up at his Mother who was enveloping him with her body and wings. His father lay against his side, puffing warm breath against his neck and ruffling his hair. Regis let an excited trill escape him as he shifted, sitting up so he could brush cheeks with his Mother and inhale her spicy scent. _Love. _This was _home_.

Their cave was dark, but instinctively he knew it was dusk, the sun was setting, and the moon was full. The time for the hunt had come. His family, and the warren they’d been adopted into were rising, preparing to set out. His parents practically vibrated with energy in their eagerness as they shifted restlessly. Full moon hunts were considered special, a time where their instincts, abilities and senses were at their highest---hence why they had taken to their more bestial bat forms.

Regis struggled against the weight of his Mother, fighting to free himself from her and the furs. _Excitement. Need. _He trilled and hissed, struggling. His Mother chirped with amusement, finally shifting her weight and settling back on her haunches. Settling on his own, Regis blinked wide eyes at her and keened. _Need. Want._ He looked back over his shoulder, eyes catching his Father’s momentarily before staring longingly in the direction of the cave exit. Keening again, he turned back to his Mother with pleading eyes. _Want!_

Off to the side, his Father hissed and his Mother let out a low growl baring her fangs. The message was clear though Regis resolutely disagreed. He let out an angry trill, clacking his jaws together and pulsing _frustration _and _need._ He wanted to go too, he wanted to hunt! He was old enough by now! He could fly for an hour without tiring! And now he can turn into mist and hide if he needed to! And the need to drink, hunt for himself---it was becoming almost unbearable!

He could do this, why couldn’t they see! He was nearly an adult now! Not some young fledgling. His claws began to knead the skins anxiously and he narrowed his eyes. Regis was just as eager and restless as his parents. He let out a deep growl of his own, fangs bared and his whole body tense. Muscles coiled as if he were ready to pounce or take flight. _NEED. RESTLESS!_

A white flash and searing pain sent him tumbling out of the nest to the cold flat rock below. He could feel a shadow towering over him, but he was too disoriented and preoccupied by the pain in his ear to pay attention. Then he froze, shivering when he smelt it. Blood. _His blood._ He could feel its warmth, trickling from his ear, down through his fur onto his chest. Sickly sweet it was and not at all appetizing.

The shadow loomed nearer and it was then he realized it was his Father. Emiel.

_Protect. Fear. Pain. Protect!!!_

Regis cringed, frozen.

Emiel settled over Regis, claws and wings on either side as his Father’s weight almost swallowed him.

_Protect._

Regis stared up into his Father’s red eyes, pupils blown wide and muzzle flaring as he took in Regis own scent.

_Fear_ he sent back, stretching his neck out and baring it in submission.

His Father’s warm muzzle brushed against him, a moist tongue shooting out to clean off the blood and seal the wound. _Protect. Love. Patience._

Regis keened sad and frustrated. Another muzzle brushed against him followed by a quick lick.

_Love._ _Protect._

His Mother and Father stared down at him, both offering him low trills of sympathy before letting him up. He scrambled, stiff, shaken but whole. Understanding. He knows why he can’t go out. Not because he’s young or too little. But because of _him._

The Elder. The Elder wanted him. The Elder had requested an audience, which left his parents no choice but to obey. They brought Regis before The Elder who in turn dismissed his parents entirely, claiming Regis as his own. He didn’t remember much after that. Either because he blacked it out, or because he was too young. All he knew is a fight ensued, his Father refusing, and his Mother wailing in horror as The Elder made to grab him. His Mother and Father shifted, as did The Elder, and somewhere in the midst it all went black.

He’d woken days later on the back of his Mother, chill wind ripping at his skin, his head pounding and body stiff. His parents gave him but the barest of information. They were on the run, injured and on the run---anathema to their kind---at least to their kind in Toussaint.

They headed north to Rivia, where they managed to find a series of massive, deep caves sequestered in the mountains of Mahakam. There they found a large warren of lesser vampires that seemed to tolerate their presence. Relieved and desperate, his parents hunkered down to heal and hunt. When they did they’d bring extra back for the warren, to foster trust and attempt to form some kind of kinship. Eventually, the warren embraced them as their own and the caves of Mahakam became home.

Meanwhile Regis was restless and afraid. The Elder had stirred something in him primal and unrelenting that froze him to his core. He could dare say his parents felt the same, always sheltering him, keeping him either out of sight, or at the very least in one or another’s presence. They made a nest which became Regis safe place among the bustle of the warren. It smelt of earth and sweet spices. It smelt of _home_. For the longest time he dare not leave it, less The Elder sense him, find him somehow, despite his withdrawing from the tribal bond they had instinctively shared.

Over time he relaxed. He played with the katakana pups and sparred with the bruxa. He’d enjoy the books his parents would bring him on occasion after the hunt. Several of which is what spurred his interest in herbs and alchemy. The warren would teach him about his instincts, and his parents taught him when to use or temper them. Eventually, tension eased, he became confident. Restless.

Twenty-three moon cycles had passed since their arrival. This was to be the twenty-fourth. Almost two years sequestered and hidden. He felt too sheltered…. He felt alone. And the urge to hunt for himself, the instinct to feed was becoming too great.

He keened again, long and low, barely audible if not for their incredibly sensitive hearing. His claws kneaded the rock. The clicks and scratches echoed off the walls.

“Phlssss…” _Need. Longing. Thirst._

_Patience. Love._ His Mother drew him close. _Protect. Patience._ She nuzzled him, wuffing his hair with a puff of warm breath. _Safe._

Regis trilled out a sigh, tension leaving his fuzzy body as his Mother held him. She pulsed waves of peace and comfort at him through their bond, soothing his restless nerves. He puffed out a warm breath against her chest. Defeated, he pulsed sadness and yearning back at her as he pulled out of her embrace and shuffled back to their nest.

He felt his Father’s eyes follow him, though Regis chose to ignore it. His heart clenched at the low rumble that followed which was his Father pulsing strength and comfort at him.

It was so hard to watch them go as he settled back into the skins and covered himself with the furs. Especially on a full moon night when all he wanted to do was hunt and fly free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeee little kid bat Regis! He's so cute and fluffy and grumpy!


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Regis pent up energy gets the better of him, drawing him outside and to his first kill. In his delirium he forgets how sensitive a bats sense of smell is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:
> 
> Very vague/Suggestive M/M  
Violence  
Angst  
Briefly mentioned thoughts of suicide

The mound of plush furs and thick skins seemed inanimate as Regis slept. The only sign of his existence being the rare and occasional shift as he snuggled beneath them more comfortably. The sleeping elixir had done a thorough job. While Corvo Bianco tenants set up tents outside, and its rowdy guests enjoyed Geralt’s company, Regis was dead to the world. So much so that the combination of the potion and the anxiety and terror of his too close brush against The Elder stirred in Regis long dead memories of his childhood and adolescence.

His lips pressed into a thin line and his brow furrowed as the dreams shifted, leaving an ache in his throat and tightness in his chest.

~*~

Young Regis began to lose track of the years and moon cycles. Had it been eighty cycles? Or one hundred? He’d forgotten at some point, preoccupied as he was with his maturing abilities and desperate need to slake his thirst. His parents had been absolutely NO help of course! They’d deigned release him from this cage called _home_ nigh on a handful of times and NEVER during the full moon! And as always, they were very careful to supervise him, to make sure he didn’t overdraw from the game they caught, that he didn’t go too far…

He’d at some point taken to sneaking outside the warren while his parents were off hunting. At first he didn’t stray far, content with enjoying the warmth of the sun or glow of the moon while he harassed and harried nearby game. It had been a true joy to be outside, expending the pent up energy he’d harbored. He’d dive down in his bestial form, or he’d test his ability to shift between forms on whim. He’d scout from the air, then turn to mist and stealthily appear behind various prey. He’d slash at them with natural precision with his elongated claws or grab them and break them with the strength of his grip.

One evening, he’d scouted a lone vagabond, snaking his way up a lonely trail towards the mountains. Regis had been unable to resist then. Excitement pulsed through him and his body vibrated with pending need. Silent, he approached the traveler from the air. His fangs itched, elongating, and the venom sacs behind them ached with the need for release.

He dived and halfway to his target he misted then reappeared, grabbing the man from behind and encircling him with strong arms. The man shouted and struggled, but instinct took over then as his lips found the crook of the man’s neck and his fangs pierced soft, pliable skin.

This was the first time he drew from a human and it was pure ecstasy! And he was not-at-all prepared for what it would do to his body. It was good! So. Good. Exquisite! The blood filled him and satisfied his hunger in ways that he couldn’t have imagined. Then, the tension that had been building for years suddenly released and white hot pleasure overwhelmed him, leaving him weary and disoriented in its wake. Regis shuddered, aching, confused but also enraptured by the feeling as he pressed himself against the human as life faded from him. He wanted more!

Regis went back to the nest to rest and compose himself, mind reeling from his experience but content. As he drifted into a deep sleep, he vaguely wondered about his parents. Why were they sheltering him from this? It was so good…so _right._

Not one to have questions left unanswered, whether consciously or not, he was abruptly awoken as he was flipped from the nest.

Regis tumbled to the cold slate below, landing on his shoulder and jarring his head forcefully against the rock.

“Wha……” Regis started, groaning at the fierce pounding in his head and blinding pain in his shoulder. Blinking, he tried to push himself up but was suddenly and forcefully pressed face first into the ground. Blood trickled down into his eyes, skimming his lips. His Father’s bestial form pressed him into the ground none too gently while his Mother stood off to the side, silent.

Regis froze, shivering as a warm muzzle pressed against various parts of his body, snuffling, inhaling, registering all the scents and things he’d experienced from outside that he’d forgotten to cleanse away in his delirium.

He began to panic. His normally slow heart beat frantically. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go out, it was absolutely forbidden! But he’d been so pent up, so agitated and desperate. “Wait! Please I ca—“

A deep growl and the snap of jaws sent pain lancing through his hip. _Anger _and _disappointment_ radiated through the bond.

Regis was trembling and panting as claws dug into his back. His Father’s weight shifted away from him, down his body, claws digging into and dragging against his skin leaving bloody gouges.

“AHHHH!” Regis cried out, sharp nails scratching against the slate, the sickly sweet tang of his blood filling the air. Terrified, he misted up and shot towards the cave exit, but his Mother blocked him. She inhaled and let out a high pitched screech, confounding him and sending him tumbling back down to the ground. Spots danced across his vision as he hit the rock, the landing jarring his most likely dislocated shoulder.

Regis pushed himself up, struggling with the one arm and turned as his Father stalked towards him claws extended.

“You KNOW you are not to leave the caves without either of us!!” his Father growled backhanding Regis and sending him sprawling to the floor.

“I….” Regis voice cracked, hips searing in agony and mind searching for something, ANYTHING that would be a good enough explanation for his Father. His whole body throbbed, his mind whirling. The blissful experiences from earlier nearly forgotten and seemingly not even worth it. If only he’d been more mindful, bathed and used herbs to conceal the new scents still clinging to him…

“The Elder wants you Emiel Regis! For all we know he would be as close as Rivia, searching for you—for us!” His Father closed the distance between them again and Regis hastily backed away as fast as his one arm and throbbing hip would let him.

“I know! I—“ he’d backed into his Mother. Looking up at her, she stared down at him with sad eyes, wings at her side and not at all offering any comfort.

His Father swiped at him again, missing his face by millimeters. Terror raced through Regis, his own eyes wide and body shivering. “You dare chance bring that abomination down upon us? Do you realize what he would have done to you should we not have risked EVERYTHING to get you away?! He would have broken you, used you as his doll and thrown you to the necrophages!” His Father’s fangs glistened, his lips pulled back in a snarl as he paced back and forth in front of his son.

Tears gathered at the corner of Regis eyes and threatened to spill over. He couldn’t help his urges. There was so much pent up energy inside him, the need to feed and hunt became overwhelming. He yearned and he ached! There was only so much he could do here, sparring with the bruxae and playing with the other lesser vampire. It got old! If they had taken him out more often he wouldn’t have resorted to this! And the man, the traveler he…

“The human was---he was coming towards the caves---“ It was a lame excuse, somewhat reasonable but given the circumstances the best he could come with given his current state of mind.

“Did you dispose of the body?!” it was his Father’s turn to sound frantic---paranoid.

“N—no I---“

“You little fool!” His Father seethed, pacing, claws flexing. “Ceasia would you be so kind?”

Regis felt his Mother shift and he keened lowly, staring up at her with pleading eyes. He received no more physical assurances than he had before, however as she left she pulsed him _strength_ and _love_.

Without the warmth of his Mother behind him, his shivering intensified and his focus returned to his increasingly agitated Father. Regis was growing numb, physically and mentally. His mind scrambled for words and he couldn’t feel his arm!

“Father, I---“ He swallowed, hurting, conflicted and prideful. He didn’t want to promise his Father he wouldn’t do it again. He wasn’t a liar. But maybe they could come to some sort of compromise?

“If…if you would be so kind…Father.” Regis shifted his weight to his good arm, struggling, but just managing to push his stiff body off the cold floor. He closed his eyes to steady himself, his equilibrium still off. Straightening his back, black eyes locked and black. “Please forgive me of my lapse in judgement. I…” Regis grimaced, his head throbbing. “I am suffocating in here.”

Emiel’s visage softened nearly imperceptibility, or more likely not at all. But Regis could feel something cracking through their bond. An understanding.

“I have been where you are, young one. You must be careful. Learn to control yourself less we become exposed!” Elongated claws swiped at the air, gesturing towards the twisting caves of the warren where their brethren resided. “Otherwise this will be all for naught.”

“All for naught? We’re in hiding!”

His Father snarled and lashed out at him, intentionally missing. “WE HAVE OUR LIVES!”

Regis cringed, anxiety and fear tightened inside him alongside a very thin thread of hope. He waited for his Father to start pacing again, using the small distraction to plead with him. “Please help me. Take me out with you, if not to hunt, but to learn. It’s been years since we’ve heard anything! Please Father I want to learn! From you!”

If there was one thing he knew, it was appealing to his Father’s ego, though more often than not it didn’t work.

“There will be no learning if we’re dead or if you’re taken from us.” His Father’s voice had softened considerably as they gazed at each other.

Regis felt that thread of hope snap, sadness overwhelming him. His lips pulled back in a grimace, the slowly drying blood making his skin feel too tight. Closing his eyes, tears finally spilled over as he pulsed _anguish_ through their bond.

“That may be true, but as it is now, this is hardly a life worth living," he mumbled, voice broken.

Back in Corvo Bianco, the pile of furs and skins vibrated softly as Regis sobbed quietly in his sleep, his lips pulled back in the same grimace as in his dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended several more scenes for this chapter but this one scene took up the word count I was aiming for. Alas, that means more chapters! Yay...? lol


	3. Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis learns to control himself via distraction. Studies and sparring? One is a favorite, the other not so much. But during one full moon he's quite thankful for his training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
Violence  
Language  
Sexual insinuation F/M

In the end, he and his Father had come to an understanding and a formal agreement.

Regis would behave, learning to exert perfect control over his bestial urges and instincts, not leaving the cave without an escort. In turn, either his Father, or Mother, or both, would take him out every other full moon, and once a week otherwise to learn. Not to hunt, but to _learn._ And at this point, Regis would take what he could get. At least he was outside! Regularly!

Regis threw himself into his studies, using it as a distraction. He learned about all the herbs in the area, how to identify them, harvest them, what uses they had and how to (in theory) brew potions and elixir. It was fascinating, and useful! He could help the warren! Be of use and have a purpose! He begged books from his parents, vials and supplies so he could set up a small alchemy station and set to work learning how to create potions to give strength to the ailing, or pungent salves to aid in the healing of stubborn and infected wounds.

When he wasn’t obsessing over his books and herbs, his Father took him out to spar---which was totally on a different level than what he was used to with the bruxae! Regis was confident in his experience but he had NOTHING on his Father! Quickly he realized he was outclassed. The speed of which his Father moved, the strength and techniques he used…It was everything Regis could do just to avoid a small portion of the attacks and never landed a hit of his own.

Regis groused and complained, begging his Father to go easier. But of course the old vampire refused! Saying something about how he’d never learn if he wasn’t challenged enough, if he didn’t actually fear for his life.

And fear he did, almost bitterly. Every session without fail left gashes and puncture wounds, sometimes even broken bones for him to nurse as he limped back to the warren. Regis started sequestering himself in his own small private cavern to avoid the amused chips and trills of his brethren. During these times he took solace in his books, and in using his salves on the wounds that just _refused_ to regenerate properly….probably from lack of blood intake.

That…was a whole other issue he did his damnedest not to think about. The mere _thought_ of human blood was intoxicating, and he was _starving _for it!

Regis groaned, stomach twisting with hunger pains which he forced himself to ignore. They’d made a formal agreement, a pact per say. And it was slowly driving him mad.

Many moon cycles passed this way. Herb gathering, sparring and strained full moon hunts. Much to his Father’s disappointment, he wasn’t very strong, but he was a fast learner and his body began to fill out. Regis grew faster, more agile as time passed. Though he might not be able to best his Father through strength alone, he’d learned enough from his techniques and patterns to begin avoiding all but the most frenzied attacks. Regis was even beginning to land a few of his own through careful planning and prediction! His confidence slowly began to return, and now he almost didn’t care when they forced him to hang back and observe during the full moon hunts.

The hunts were particularly stressful for him, though he’d learned to finally curb his instincts through sheer force of will. It helped that his parents allowed him to partake in small doses of the prey they’d caught. But it wasn’t satisfying in the least. It was game---deer, bear, goat. It tempered his hunger, and his pain, but it left a bad aftertaste on his fangs.

Tonight Regis tried to hide his distaste when he fed, knowing that he must, but then quickly busied himself after by harvesting ingredients from the corpses. He gathered them all into a water proofed bear skin bag and tied it closed. It was heavy, and would need to be carried several miles back to the warren, so he shifted back into his bestial form.

Regis bat form had finally filled out. Fur black as midnight glistened in the glow of the full moon. His muscles ripped, and taut, accenting his health and youth. He drew back his lips, scenting the air, alert for danger, or other scents that may trigger him into unease. Balsam and cedar filled the air, the scent of wild flowers, droppings from small game, the smell of earth and spices---nothing of import triggered his instincts into fight or flight mode. At ease, he fanned his wings out, tensing as he prepared to hop onto the bag and grasp it in his talons.

_Pride_ and _love_ pulsed strongly from behind him. Regis shifted, looking over his shoulder at his Mother who stared at him, her silver fur shimmering in the moonlight. She trilled at him affectionately while his Father beside her chortled in amusement as he prepared to lift their kill back to the warren. His Father’s form was black with wisps of silver throughout his fur, showing his age. Scars riddled his body, adding to his innately intimidating presence.

Regis clacked his jaws together, eager to be gone and away from the blood bath. Pulsing feigned _contentment_ through the bond, he hopped onto the bag. Balancing, he grasped it in his talons and coiled his legs. As he brought his wings down he released the tension, launching himself into the night. His wings stretched out to their max as he caught the air, beating down, rising higher, higher and higher.

The ground fell away from him and the trees became miniature. In the distance he could see their home in the mountains. Regis angled towards it and used the height he’d acquired to glide, resting his muscles.

Regis was fatigued, mentally rather than physically. The amount of self-control it took to keep himself from tearing off towards the nearest village made him weary. He was tired of denying himself, but he understood why he must. For himself, for his family and warren. To protect them all. He would not let himself give in. He couldn’t. There was too much at stake and he’d come so—

_SHIT_

He heard it right before he felt it, the sound of air rippling over wings and through the fine hairs of another beings fur.

Talon’s latched onto his back and he screeched out in pain and surprise, dropping his ingredient bag.

His attacker chortled in amusement, releasing him and twisting away.

Infuriated, Regis saw red, the loss of his ingredient bag paling in comparison to the instincts that took over fueled by the full moon.

Regaining himself, he flipped around and inhaled, releasing a high pitched screech up towards his attacker who twisted to the side, dodging his attack.

_Black bat-smaller than him but still very large. Deadly claws and fangs-smaller ears-Female._

She dove at him, wings close to her body and claws outstretched.

Regis reacted instinctively, tucking his own wings to his side and twisting his body backwards into a flip so that he would fall into a dead drop, then raked her with his talons as she sailed past him.

He scented her blood and something else he couldn’t pin point. _Bruxa_.

Twisting around as he fell Regis chased her, tucking his wings against his body and gaining speed in his descent. She had no place to go but down or up, and should she flare her wings she was _his._

Per usual, his confidence got the better of him as she flared just the one wing, sending her into a tight spin and slowing just enough that her wings slapped him as he flew past her.

_Irritation_ pulsed through his end of the bond, and he vaguely registered _mirth_ on his parent’s end which infuriated him even more as the ground rushed up at him. Screeching in anger, he managed to throw open his wings just before he crashed into the ground. His muscles strained painfully at the air caught in their folds. He panted and growled, flapping furiously to regain his momentum and climb back above the trees.

_Where is she?!_

Once again his unspoken question was answered by another irritating chortle above him and talons digging into his back, slamming him into the ground.

Regis twisted, snapping his jaws at her and narrowly missing as they tumbled into a clearing. Pain shot through his body as they skid across rocks and her claws and teeth bit into his skin, but he didn’t care. He was consumed by adrenaline and something else entirely primal. And _rage_. How _dare_ a bruxa attack him?! Unmolested even!

With a snarl, Regis dislodged himself from her, ripping a hole in her wing in the process. She hissed and he growled as they circled each other, hackles raised, but as a truly higher vampire, Regis had the advantage.

He suddenly misted, dark smoke shooting above her before she could react and he materialized into his bestial vampire form, dropping his full weight on her.

_Your mine!_

He landed on her, straddling her. He tightened his knees around her neck and his elongated claws grazed her throat.

She chortled again. That irritating fucking chortle!

“You my dear, have a fucking death wish don’t you!” Regis snarled at her his elongated claws drawing blood. The scent was tantalizing, but he did not let it bother him.

“Answer me!”

The bruxa let out a long low keen beneath him that sent a shiver through his body, then chortled again as she quickly changed back to her humanoid form, throwing him off balance. She used the opportunity to dislodge him from her back and scrambled away.

_Bitch!_

Eyes blown wide in the night, he righted himself and drew back his lips bearing his fangs and scented her as they circled each other. She smelt of pine, mandrake and something he couldn’t quite place….cinnamon?...

She launched at him, claws out and teeth bared. He twisted away to the left and swiped to the right, grazing her side with his claws. She hissed, turning around to take him on directly.

Regis weaved and bobbed, avoiding her attacks and staying on the defense while he learned her techniques and patterns. They may have been on par as far as strength, with him having a slight advantage, but he was far faster than she. He wasn’t tiring, and she was growing annoyed, knowing that he was watching her and learning her moves. It was Regis turn to laugh, relishing the fact that she could possibly fight as intelligently as he. Regis threw her a full fanged grin as he blocked her attacks move for move which in the end triggered something primal in her that he would later regret.

She lurched back, claws splaying to each side as she screeched high and long, fury on her face and in her fully black eyes.

_Oh shit._

She came at him with a new ferocity, no longer playing.

Her speed increased to match his, and then surpassed him entirely until it was he who was on the defense. He took to misting away, leaving her searching and he’d reappear behind or above, hoping to catch her off guard. This worked a couple times, he got a few licks in but to his chagrin, she too learned. The third time she used his momentum against him and threw him to the ground, pinning him with claws at his throat.

She was close now, her weight fully on him, warming him. He could mist away just as easily as she’d changed forms to throw off his balance, but her scent stirred something in him. Something primal and wanting.

If it hadn’t been for the full moon, the adrenaline and his instincts running haywire, he might have had better control. As it were when she closed in on him, her scent, her _arousal_ now clearly evident, he did what any young inexperienced vampire would do.

He introduced himself. Or well, he tried to.

“Hi, I’m Reg-“ The bruxa cut him off as she crushed their lips together and ground into him, eliciting a groan from Regis.

_Oh to HELL with it!_ They could introduce themselves later!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaah he's not quite 'gentlemanly' yet. In my head canon here he's about 14 or 15. Doesn't quite have control of himself yet. 
> 
> I will not be creating any original characters for this and from what I understand fraternization between higher vampires such as Bruxa and even Alp is pretty commonplace


	4. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis parents take note of his romps with the Bruxa. His Mother decides its time for 'the talk.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to formally apologize for the fluffiness of this chapter. I couldn't resist ._____.
> 
> The bonds resonate from TrueTattoo's head canon however I paraphrased and expanded a bit.

In the months and moon cycles that followed, he and his new bruxa friend slipped into an interesting though not entirely _comfortable_ routine.

He tried to teach her about herbs and their uses. She’d show interest and follow along for a while. Then she’d get bored and goad him into a sparring match which usually grew pretty…heated. More often than not, it would end with him on the losing side, pinned or otherwise immobilized with a host of new wounds to nurse. Which, in the end, was way more preferential to sparring with his Father in his humble opinion.

Probably because of what usually happened afterwards.

Something that did not slip his parent’s attention AT ALL.

Regis had gained his parent’s trust after a time having proven that he could control himself, and earning the right to come and go from the warren as he pleased. Which is something that made him exceedingly happy and more content than he’d ever felt in years past. Lately though he’d return to the warren smelling of cinnamon and mandrake, either limping and bruised or just looking altogether ruffled and out of sorts.

This evening his Mother drew his attention, beckoning him over to their nest. He’d been neglecting it and them in general. Preoccupied as he was, and aged, he no longer _needed_ the feeling of comfort and safety the nest provided.

That’s not to say that he didn’t reluctantly enjoy it still.

Clambering inside, Regis groaned, settling in among the thick furs and skins. The scent of earth and spices enveloped him as his Mother drew him close. He visibly relaxed, melting into her embrace and his eyes fluttered shut as sleep threatened to take hold of him. His whole body felt bruised and used, though not entirely in a bad way.

“Regis my pup, we need to talk,” she whispered against his brow, stroking her fingers through his hair.

“Nnnnnn…” He protested, somewhat at the term of endearment, and just at being bothered. He was _exhausted._

“Come on love, just for a few minutes. Please while your Father is away. These kind of talks make him feel awkward,” his Mother begged of him gently, her voice calming.

_Oh._ _These kind of talks._

Despite her soothing voice, Regis stomach twisted, anxiety coiling within as he forced himself to sit up and pay attention. It was time for _that_ talk. _Oh geeze_.

His Mother let the silence linger as she gathered her thoughts, her fingers gently sifting through his hair and massaging his scalp. “Do you fully understand the various types of bonds available to us? And how they can form?” She asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

“I….do I really have to answer that?” His eyes pleaded with her. Of course he knew of them!

“Humor me please dear heart.”

Regis sighed and reluctantly recited what basically all vampire knew from a young age. “There’s the familial bond between parents and siblings. We can sense peaked emotions of distress or happiness, but also send the feelings directly as a way to communicate. These bonds are formed innately, but can still be severed under dire circumstances with enough force of will.”

His Mother remained silent, waiting while her fingers worked their mysterious magic, soothing the muscles in his tender neck and slowly calming his spirit.

“There are tribal bonds which are much vaguer than the familial bonds. They can be used to call out in a time of great need, or to contact The Elder, and even reveal yourself to nearby members of the same tribe. These too can be severed, albeit rarely and with great difficulty.” Which was very interesting to Regis and gave him cause to wonder about himself, having cut himself off from the Elder relatively easily and at such a young age.

He continued before she could say anything or nudge him on.

“Then there are pack bonds which can be willfully formed between sentient species, usually between friends, kin and...lovers. They’re just as strong as familial bonds, sometimes even stronger and can be severed as well with a mere thought. Some pack bonds can be one sided if formed incorrectly or without other participant’s willingness or knowledge. The bond loses strength as such until the other is made aware and accepts the bond as well.”

His Mother offered him an encouraging smile. “Good enough. Please continue with the last two.” Her arm tightened around his middle, offering him support and comfort.

Regis hugged his arms around himself then as well, feeling self-conscious. “Next are blood bonds. Potentially much stronger than pack and familial bonds. Both participants must exchange blood, willingly…”

He paused, inhaling deeply to steady himself. This and the next were the strongest of all bonds, and he knew the question his Mother was about to ask.

“Have you formed this blood bond with your Bruxa friend?”

Regis grinned slightly, showing fang and feeling truly good about himself for once because this…this he could answer honestly. Opening the bond wide so his Mother would know his heart, he told her the truth. “Actually, no. We have not.” His Bruxa had been showing_ quite_ a bit of restraint in that area. He on the other hand…

“_Oh?_” His Mother was surprised but obviously very pleased. _Pride_ clearly emanated from her through the bond.

“We...have formed a pack bond, but she refused to…uh…partake of me. Even though I’ve offered.” It had bothered him at first, made him think that there was something she didn’t quite like about him, however his Mother cleared that up almost immediately.

“Ah. That’s very…respectful of her. Not traditional at all. Usually they just…do what they want, if you let them.” She chuckled behind him and tightened her embrace. Their combined warmth was lulling Regis into a state of relaxed security.

“I’m assuming you’ve partaken of her blood. You’ve looked more relaxed as of late, much healthier and not nearly as high strung as you used to be.”

“Hey, you don’t have to pry! You could attribute that to our training!” Regis deflected, avoiding the truth. He could deny it all he wanted but he knew his Mother saw past him.

“Of course dear heart. All that _intense_ training has everything to do with it!” His Mother giggled sarcastically as she nuzzled against his neck with a sigh.

Regis bristled, but he couldn’t help the fanged smile he threw at his Mother. “Do you not see all these bruises?!”

His Mother grinned back, also showing fang. “Oh, bruises? I thought they were love bites!” She teased him, poking him in the side and making Regis flinch.

“Touché.” Regis conceded, not wanting to or having the strength for lengthy banter. Some were bruises, some were…more...His Bruxa would bite, but didn't draw, so It didn’t matter in the end.

Familial silence passed for several minutes as they contented themselves to each other’s warmth. Regis let his mind wander, vaguely registering the far off presence of his Father’s pulsating aura, and the closer and much more intriguing presence of his bruxa further down in the warren.

After a few more moments, his Mother stirred. “You know about the last bond then. The mating bond? Yes?”

Oh how could he not.

Regis fang grazed his lower lip as he thought back on his studies. “It is the strongest, and if not most difficult bond to form.” Regis had heard stories of vampire searching their entire existence for compatible mates, all for naught. Some find happiness, luckily, however no matter how they try, the bond just won’t take root.

“The bond that relies most on magic and circumstance,” Regis stated, his eyes glassing over due to weariness and also contemplation. “Nobody knows truly how the bond is formed, though some have aspired to research and learn, with no credible results. How does one test and research that which is untestable, when you can only form the bond with one other? Ever? Until the bond is somehow broken or one or another dies? A mating bond forming out of research just seems implausible.” It definitely wouldn’t happen with that kind of ulterior motive! You would think anyway!

“It surpasses species boundaries, that we know, and said species involved must both be sentient. Coupling must occur and blood exchanged willingly at the time of the bonds creation, but what else?”

Regis recalled what he’d learned from various discussions in the warren, and various books he’s come across. 

”Many have tried and failed following those two base assumptions. Is it pheromones, the phases of the moon, hormones involved? Or is it something more…primal? Maybe it boils down to naught but compatibility, resonance and passion?...”

Regis trailed off trying to figure it out, totally distracted from the whole reason this discussion was taking place to begin with.

“I’m glad you understand the fickleness of the mating bond, and that which it entails. Please my pup, do not attempt completion of that bond lightly, for the results are lifelong, and the consequences of an ill formed bond are disastrous and agonizing.” The words of his Mother reverberated through him to his core.

“It’s not that serious, Mother. We’re just _really_ good friends. I’ve learned a lot from her.” He loosed a sleepy full fanged grin as he yawned, his eyes fluttering shut as he remembered.

His Mother chortled and nuzzled her cheek against his own. “That’s what I was hoping. Learn, my young pup, but do be cautious.”

Regis thinned his lips, scowling. _Fuck those damn chortles!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BWAAAAAH They're so cute!! I am dying! X_X


	5. Blood Pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis finally get's a win, then decides where his future will take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
Minor blood play of the non sexual kind

It took a while, but with his Bruxa friends help, Regis’s strength and stamina finally began to match that of his Father. More often than not lately they’ve come to a draw, but with his intellect and ability to read his opponent, it was only a matter of time before he actually won.

In the main cavern of the warren, Regis straddled his Father, his bare feet wrapped around the back of the older vampire's thighs and the claws of his left hand run straight through his Father’s right shoulder into the rock below, immobilizing him. They were both panting, eyes blown wide and black in the night, all but for the glow of the red iris. Regis shook with adrenaline, fueled by his instincts he nearly ran his Father through, the tips of his claws just barely penetrating the soft skin of his Father’s neck. Blood trickled from the wound—from all of their wounds, causing their brethren who watched the sparring match to become somewhat unsettled and excited.

“Regis.” His Mother called on him, pulsing _concern_ followed by _safe_. Instinctively Regis scented the cavern to catalog all the threats around them, then shook his head to clear his mind realizing what he was doing. No need to be on the defense. This was the warren, and home but---

His eyes cleared as he forced himself to come down from the adrenaline high and it finally hit him.

He won! He beat his Father!

“Regis.”

_Oops._

“If you would be so kind as to _unpin me_.”

Heat flared in his ears as he reversed his transformation. There was a sickening wet slurp as his claws withdrew from his Father’s shoulder and neck. The puncture wounds began to heal almost immediately.

“M-my apologies Father, It s-seems I got carried away…” Regis stammered slightly as he rose and offered a hand to help his Father up. He was giddy and nervous. Even somewhat embarrassed now that he was noticing all the attention they’d attracted throughout the warren.

_They all saw…_

“Regis.”

Regis hands flexed nervously and he shifted them behind his back, clasping them together. “Y-yes Father?” Regis held his head high, feeling more confident than ever but trying to remain humble as well. No vampire would appreciate being beat in front of a whole warren, much less one as powerful and experienced as his Father. He didn’t want them to think his Father weak (they’d be foolish to do so!). It was an incredible fight and his win a long time comin—

Suddenly he was pulled into a warm though somewhat awkward embrace. His Father was stiff, and Regis could feel that he was also shaking. Most likely after-effects of the adrenaline, right?

Before he knew it, his Father retreated, looking embarrassed. He would not meet his son's eyes. “There is nothing more that I can teach you.”

Regis felt immense _pride_ pulsating through the bond from both of his parents, though more intensely from his Father. “Father…” It was enough to make him tear up. Regis blushed modestly and rushed forward to return the hug to hide the threatening tears, one of very few hugs he’s gotten from the old vampire.

“Thank you for everything.” Regis mumbled. His Father returned the hug and Regis melted into it, his Father smelling of earth and spices and _home_. Regis sent immense _gratitude _and _love_ over to him through the bond, and their embrace tightened.

“Okay you two, time to get cleaned up before the warren decides to have their way with you!” His Mother snuck up on him and ruffled his hair. “Or that ferocious little Bruxa whose been watching this whole time for that matter.” _Mirth_ was sent his way and his blush deepened.

“Again. We’re just _friends,_” Regis hissed quietly under his breath so only his parents could hear causing his Mother to let out the all-too-familiar chortle.

“I will kill you,” Regis threatened weakly, though he loosed a fanged grin at his Mother to let her know he was teasing anyway.

“Off with you! I need to see to my life-mate!”

_Oh geeze._

“I really didn’t need to know that Mother.”

Again with the _mirth_!

He left quickly, heading deeper into the warren’s winding caverns and secret byways to his favorite bathing area. His Mother was right of course. He knew full well he was indeed about to be had by the presence quickly closing in on him from behind.

~*~

In Corvo Bianco, Regis rolled over and shifted his body into a more comfortable position beneath the skins of the newly formed nest that Geralt lovingly built for him. It smelt of earth and spices, much like his home nest had, which soothed the hard lines that had previously settled on his face. He no longer looked pained, the tears caused by his earlier dream were long dried. He slept easy, nuzzling deeper into the furs that bound him as utter contentment and serenity drew him further into the memories of his past.

~*~

When Regis told his friend about his plan, she wasn’t entirely thrilled, but she supported him. They were friends, not life-mates, and she respected his decision. It was only a matter of time before a young fledgling left the nest after all, right? He was confident they'd see each other again anyway.

The only issue however was getting his parent’s approval.

He broached the topic as they woke the next day while the warren stirred in preparation for the hunt.

“I’m leaving the warren.” Regis stood straight, his hand clasping the strap of his satchel and the other clenched nervously behind his back. _Be confident! _He thought. _If you can’t do this, what makes them think you can handle the rest of the world?_

The reactions he felt through the bond were as predicted. _Fear _and _worry _from his Mother. He expected those. What he did not except was the _resolve_ and_ acceptance_ from his Father. “You’re not asking.” His Father sat at the edge of the nest, seemingly not at all shocked by his son’s choice of statement.

Silence stretched between them. His Mother kept pulsing _worry_ at them both and _fear._ Her hands kneaded the skins anxiously. Tearing his gaze from his Father, he went to his Mother and took her hands.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll travel as a pellar or herbalist. Nobody will be the wiser.” Regis sent soothing pulsations of _calm _and _confidence _to her as he squeezed and stroked her hands.

“But the Elder…”

“Has gone to ground,” Regis interrupted. “I’ve been listening, asking careful questions to the right vampires. I’ll be safe, and I’ll go North. To Velen, or perhaps Novigrad. The opposite direction of the Elder. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like we don’t have a choice in the matter.” His Father groused. “Though I commend the thought you’ve put into it.”

Regis eyes locked on his Father, his ministrations stopping at his Father’s next words.

“You may go. But on one condition.” His Father stood from the nest, walking away, pacing.

“You must promise us, and you must promise yourself. You will _not_ overindulge. There will be no safety net, nobody to calm you, soothe your instincts or pick up your mess.” His Father stopped in front of him, gesturing angrily, deadly serious.

Regis flipped that around in his head a few times, grasping at its meaning. _Anger _flared up, then _embarrassment._

“That was years ago! Just because I made a mistake that one time! That does not make me who I am!” Regis stood, temper flaring.

His Father ignored him and continued pacing. “There will be cities, far larger than you’ve ever seen. You mentioned Novigrad? The largest in the north. Temptation abounds as it were. And do not forget my son the further north you go, the more likely you’ll attract attention. The wrong kind. From a Witcher. Stay away from Kaer Morhen if you value your life and ours!”

His Mother cut in anxiously. “We know what you’re going to do, what you will experience. We’ve both been there. Think about this!”

Regis swallowed and his hand tightened around the strap of his satchel. He hadn’t thought about the Witchers. “That’s okay. I’ll just be careful. I won’t attract attention, I swear.”

“No, you must do more than just swear.” His Father looked apprehensive. Regis could feel _anxiety _filtering through from his Father and was surprised when suddenly his Father was grasping his hands in a near painful grip. Anxiety is not something he’s used to his Father expressing. This was his Father, ferocious and confident. Nothing scared him.

“You must swear a sacred oath, swear it on your blood and our bond as a family that you will not overindulge, you will not be reckless, you will not kill indiscriminately or become addicted!”

“What!? No!” His Mother stood, looking frantic and shocked. _Fear _pulsed relentlessly from her.

“Caesia he WILL swear the oath, I will not have it otherwise! He is no longer a pup! You will no longer treat him so! I will not have a blood drunk in the family!”

Regis bristled as the insult. Blood drunk was a term used for the most rogue and mindless killers. They were _blood __addicts_ who killed indiscriminately. They became obsessed with human blood and the magic that bound it. Which was most unfortunate because the magic kept them whole and healthy and slowed if not outright stopped their aging.

The large hands gripping his own tightened painfully, making Regis wince.

“Swear to us, on blood and bond!”

Regis shivered, his Father's words resonated deep within him and triggered the start of a magical pact. Somehow, Regis knew what he had to do and what to say. He squeezed his Father’s hands back and nodded. Instantly, they fell away.

Almost simultaneously they both committed to a partial transformation, their claws lengthening and iris glowing red. Without waiting, Regis sliced a deep gash into his right hand while his Father cut his own left. The scent of familial blood filled the air which grew thick with magic. Together, they raised their hands, their fingertips splayed together. Their blood began to mingle and pulse, the power of the pact beginning to take hold as Regis recited the words.

_”By blood and bond._

_Your will becomes mine._

_I shall not draw greedily._

_I shall not kill indiscriminately._

_I shall not be reckless._

_By our blood and families honor._

_Your will becomes mine.”_

As he finished, the blood in their veins seared him from the inside, making him cry out. His Father’s hand fell away and he reached out to Regis’s shoulder to steady him. Regis shuddered and swayed, fatigue briefly overwhelming him.

“It is done, my son. Do not fail in this.”

In the nest, his Mother cried silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeeee I hope this wasn't too cheesy/cliche? Idk what I'm doing. But this is fun to write!


End file.
